Most Sober When She'd Drunk
by ronXbouillabase
Summary: Oneshot set in 1x02. Chair. The beginning of Chucks crush was always a subtle thing.


Most Sober When She's Drunk

A/N: A C/B oneshot set in 1x02.

Disclaimer: All The CW' Von Zieglesar's.

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She was leaning over the sink, heaving her insides out.

Chuck's mouth fell open.

Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a gesture powerful and childish at the same time. She turned on the tap and watched the bile swirl down the drain, and let out a hoarse cry.

She forced her head up and met his eyes in the mirror.

"_Chuck_?" she choked out.

"What happened?" he asked stupidly. She didn't appear to have heard him.

"Why _you_," she shrieked in rage, "you _bounder_! How could yo come in here and--_spy_ on me--" Her voice cracked, jagged, in the middle.

Wordlessly, he came over and slipped an arm around her waist, wetting a cloth and wiping it around the fine line of her face, getting the bile off, and she, as though coming out of a trance, abruptly shook free of his hold.

"I can wash my hands myself, thanks!" she said sharply, and washed them. "Aren't you supposed to be out harassing someone?"

"Well, I could be," he said slowly, forcing her to sit down. "But the Van Der Woodsen's elsewhere--"

"The 'Van Der Woodsen', " she choked out bitterly. " '_The_ Van Der _Woodsen_'."

"What?"

"Is she really so much better than me?"

"In what terms?"

"Is she really that much hotter, that much more important?"

"Is she that much hotter, no. Guys like her 'cause she's blonde and not so uptight." Chuck didn't admit that Blair's smile made Serena's look like pigeon dung, and that he would have seduced her long ere this were it not for her stiffness. Or at least tried, and succeeded.

"That much more important?"

"Popular-wise, she's nicer, and she doesn't try to crush lives…."

"That's why she's more popular?"

"What is popularity to you?"

"Whos more impressive."

"You're more impressive because….well, just because. You have hotter bags and dresses, and you're not so….stick-thin."

"So my body's hotter?"

She was more graceful, and possessive of interesting curves. "Yeah."

She breathed out. "Thanks."

"But that's not popularity. Popularity's being well-liked. In that sense she will always outshine you."

"_Bass_!" Her eyes looked suspiciously red again.

"Just being honest. It can't be more embarrassing than finding out later, right?"

"I--I guess not."

"What's the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?"

"When I was young," Blair said musingly, "very young indeed--seven, maybe?--no, it was eight, and I was in Paris--my mother had to stop at a drugstore, and I stole something. A pillbox. It was an ass-ugly thing, and I was just emulating Holly Golighty. And the shopkeeper caught me, and shouted something to me in French and I cried--so bitterly. And Mom paid for it, and afterwards, outside, while I was _still_ crying--she slapped my wrist and told me not to embarrass her, and she said cuttingly--I'll never forget it--'How can you be such a hopeless romantic'? sharply. It hurt me, it hurt me so badly…" Suddenly, she was crying wildly in his arms, sobbing and hiccupping, and he patted her awkwardly.

"Okayokay," he said awkwardly, "well, see, it's over now and it'll never happen again. That's the good thing about embarrassing things. Time takes away its sting."

She nodded, her tears wetting his shirt bosom. He nodded too, uncomfortably.

"So….well, it's over."

"Yeah, see? That's the beauty of it." Her silky hair massaged his neck; and her hot skin warmed it.

She breathed out slowly, giving him a tickling sensation. It was not altogether uncomfortable. "I'm sorry--I can't believe I did this to myself--"

"No, it's okay. Keep your food down."

She breathed out slowly. "I'll try."

"That's." Chuck smiled. "Brave of you. Must be tough on you."

She took a great, shuddering breath. "It is."

"It's your whole…." he edged, trying to be delicate. "Parents thing? Or Serena? Or Nate? Or all?"

"Yes. Separately, I think I could deal, but the stresss…." she dragged out. "It's like it all hits me at once, and I can never patch it up quickly enough."

"None of our lives are easy," he said gently. "It's bad. It's rough. Deal with it separately."

"Do you?"

He bit his lip, thinking. _Did he?_

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"You're not--I was just thinking. Not really. I don't."

She nodded.

They stayed tat way for a long time; how long, they would never know, a very long time….until the sky was rosy with happiness. He hugged the slim curve of her lower back, and let her head press into his shoulder; she liked his strength.

She got up eventually, abruptly, and said faintly, "A man of many talents."

"What?"

"Nothing," she said hastily, and ran out of her own bathroom, as if trying to hide the plague. "I--I'll see you around, Bass."

"What, not even a goodbye kiss?" He came out of the bathroom, his frame supported by the doorkeeper. She faced him awkwardly as he took soft steps toward the door.

The usually self-important clack of his Church's of England shoes was muted by the soft carpet. Her face hardened for a moment; then, the soft bottom curve of her lower lip met the line of his jaw. "Goodnight, Basshole."

"Tu tambien." He grinned, the old trademark grin, and marched out, denying his body the pleasure of basking in that kiss. His veins seemed to have spread out from his jawline, passing on the spark that had happened.


End file.
